


Uncertain

by Recourse



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/F, LSD, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recourse/pseuds/Recourse
Summary: Rachel doesn't know what she wants.What she doesn't know hurts everyone else.





	

“So when’s it s’posed to kick in?”

Rachel surveys the scene around her, lolling her head lazily on the pillow beneath her head. They’ve really done it this time, what they always talk about, turning the bed of Chloe’s truck into a nest. They raided Chloe’s house until there was no blanket or sleeping bag left to be had. It’s almost comfortable. The way Rachel’s thigh touches Chloe in this position, that’s comfortable. The phone between them, headphone splitter leading into their ears, that’s comfortable too, playing soft indie rock that flows with the clouds in the sky.

“Uh, Rach?” Chloe asks, turning over. “Shit. You’re already gone.”

Rachel turns her eyes towards Chloe. Such a pretty blue. Both her eyes and that streak in her hair. Rachel remembers putting that in, how touching Chloe’s scalp sent tingles up her arms. Why did it feel like that?

Shit. Rachel, wake up, Chloe’s asking you a question.

“The guy said, like, forty-five minutes?” Rachel says at last.

“Was I s’posed to keep it under my tongue?” Chloe asks, sitting up. “Cuz I swallowed it like instantly.”

“Should be fine,” Rachel says, even though she kept hers under her tongue. Having wet paper in your mouth for half an hour wasn’t really a whole lot of fun, though. She can’t blame Chloe.

“But you’re already tripping as hell.”

“Am not,” Rachel objects. She tries to get up beside Chloe but the blankets vibrate so nicely against her back and she’s staring up at the sky again, watching the clouds turn into bunnies, and, well, shit. Maybe she is a little.

Chloe chuckles. “Sure, Rachel.”

“Whatever, so I am. You just need to like, chill for a sec, Chloe. Come back down here.”

Chloe looks back at her, and Rachel raises her hand in the air. “Come oooon,” she whines. “Get down here and look at the sky. It’s dope.”

Chloe smirks, and Rachel feels something bubbling up through her body. The girl’s got a great smirk. She has a great face, generally.

Why is Rachel always thinking stuff like that? Stop being weird. Chloe’s your friend. Your best friend, the one you’re real with, the one you’re trying hallucinogens with. What’s this shit?

Chloe does lie down beside her again, but she’s not looking at the sky. She’s on her side, kind of watching Rachel’s face. “Your eyes are so big,” Chloe says, her smile widening. “That good, huh?”

“Stop looking at things that aren’t the sky!” Rachel says, shoving her so she’s laying on her back. “Seriously. The clouds move weird.”

They listen to the music for a minute or two more, and then Chloe starts giggling. “Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“Holy fuck. Dude. You feel it?”

“Yeah, it’s like—”

“All tingly and nice. Holy shit this blanket is soft.” Chloe wriggles her back against the object in question. “Oh my _God._ ”

Rachel starts giggling too, running her hands over her stomach, feeling the way her shirt folds and glides beneath her fingers. Chloe’s having fun touching things as well, turning over and rubbing her face in her pillow. At some point, they end up on their sides, facing each other, and they both look so goddamned _high_ that Rachel can’t help but laugh at Chloe, and Chloe can’t help but laugh at Rachel.

Holy hell.

This is good stuff.

As they calm down, Rachel runs her hand along Chloe’s arm. She avoids the fresh tattoo, knowing it’s tender. But Chloe’s skin is so soft. She can feel goosebumps rising up on Chloe’s flesh, hears her breath hitch.

You know, right?

You always knew.

Ever since they met, ever since Chloe stared openmouthed at her at the skatepark, all blush and awkward mumbling. They’re past that stage now, of course. They’re friends. Best friends.

But Rachel’s not like Chloe. She likes guys! She knows she likes guys. There’s no doubt about that, not about the way Frank makes her body feel hot, not about the way she feels when she kisses him.

So why does she keep that whole...dimension a secret from Chloe? Why doesn’t she like it, when Chloe sees her with a man? Just because Chloe looks hurt, or...

And why is she still touching Chloe?

“Uh, Rachel?” Chloe asks with a shaky laugh as Rachel trails her nails delicately down Chloe’s arm. “You just gonna sit here and molest me all trip?”

“You wish!” Rachel says, shoving her back, wanting to laugh but she can’t because she knows Chloe _does_ wish. She’s never said as much, would never say as much. She’s afraid Rachel would leave her. Chloe’s so afraid of people leaving her.

Chloe laughs, but it sounds fake to Rachel. They’re still on their sides, looking into each other’s eyes. It feels so intimate. So right. Rachel reaches out for her again. Her skin’s flushed and hot.

What if Rachel does want this? More of this?

Then she’d be tying herself down to Chloe. And Chloe has nothing, right? No money. No job. She’s on the track to dropping out, if Rachel’s honest with herself. She’s going nowhere and Rachel shouldn’t like her this much to begin with, shouldn’t spend all this time hanging out with her just because it makes her feel real. She should be going somewhere. Be ready to leave Chloe behind when she has to. But...

Rachel could try. Test it. They’re tripping, she has an excuse, and she doesn’t have to commit. They’re friends, right? This will pass. If Rachel doesn’t end up liking it, they can recover.

And God, look at her. The hesitation in her eyes, darting around. The shiver in her muscles as Rachel shifts closer. How well does Chloe know herself? Does she know it better than Rachel?

Just do it.

Rachel slides an arm around Chloe’s waist and closes the distance between them.

Chloe’s lips are chapped and rough and warm and wet. Rachel presses against her, hard as she can without biting, and Chloe responds, their lips sliding over each other, a tiny whimper escaping Chloe as she parts her mouth and lets Rachel’s tongue in.

This is different.

This is _amazing._

Chloe’s breath hisses out of her nose, but Rachel can tell she doesn’t want to stop, and Rachel doesn’t want to stop either, she glides her tongue against Chloe’s and feels an electric surge in her veins. She might make a noise too, she’s not sure.

It’s not that Chloe’s different because she’s a girl. That’s part of it, of course. But Rachel feels like she could kiss a thousand other girls and never get anything like this.

She knows she’s kissing her best friend. She knows she’s kissing Chloe Price, juvenile delinquent who hails from a broken home and will never admit she loves you despite her love burning so fiercely inside of her that it’s a beacon to anyone who sees her.

She wonders if Chloe really knows who she’s kissing back.

Rachel wonders if she herself knows who’s kissing Chloe right now. What’s there to gain? This can only hurt them both. It’s as self-destructive as Chloe’s drinking and her cutting and the boys Chloe takes but never likes.

But Jesus.

She does _not_ want to stop.

Chloe pulls back first, panting and gulping as she rolls onto her back. “H-holy shit,” she says, her voice high and weak and _God._ Knowing that she did that to Chloe only emboldens Rachel. She wants to get on top. Straddle her, kiss her neck, hear her cry out.

But she can’t, she can’t, this is just an experiment, don’t make it worse than it already is.

She settles on cuddling up to Chloe like they do on movie nights, a hand on her chest, head buried in her shoulder. She smells like cigarettes and weed and Axe. And some other note, some special Chloe note. She hums contentedly, trying to focus on the music again, the way the pattern on Chloe’s shirt wiggles before her eyes.

“How’s the sky look?” she asks after Chloe’s recovered her breath.

She can hear Chloe swallow her question. _What was that?,_ maybe. _What did that mean?_ But Chloe’s afraid of screwing up a good thing. Rachel knows that. And here she is taking advantage of it.

Rachel finds distractions for the rest of the afternoon. They talk about nothing important.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rachel lies on her back, staring into the ceiling of her dorm room, hair spilling over her pillow. Piano notes float over her as she exhales a breath of smoke, dancing in the glow of the Christmas lights strung up above her window.

She mouths the words as they come through the speaker on her laptop. _We are stardust, we are golden, and we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden._

It’s been a long week. Rachel excused herself from everything by claiming she was going everywhere else. The dorms are empty tonight, the Vortex Club off destroying some venue, the only remaining souls either studying or simply living isolated, like her.

Her mind drifts, as it often does, to Chloe. Rachel wants to share this moment with her. Like in the back of Chloe’s truck, staring at the sky together, warm and comfortable. The more she goes out and parties hard with the rest of the Club, the more she fools around with boys, the more girls she tries kissing to see if it’s the same (it’s not), the more she wants it all to just stop. Chloe’s someone you can stop with, when you want to. As much fun as they have together, Rachel likes the moments of peace the best. She can’t get them with anyone else, aside from, perhaps, Frank.

But she didn’t go to Frank today. He’s busy. And she didn’t call Chloe either. She hasn’t seen Chloe for a while. There’s too much to think about when they hang out now. It’s not comfortable, and it should be.

A knock on the door makes her blink. A second, harder knock has her sliding off her bed, placing her pipe on her dresser before opening the door.

Chloe stands wavering on her feet, a big, nasty purple bruise on her cheek. Rachel swallows. This again.

“Step-shit’s not happy tonight,” Chloe mumbles, covering up the bruise with her palm like Rachel’s not gonna see it. “Can I—can I crash here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. C’mere.” Rachel can see the tear tracks on her face, can guess at the way she probably stormed out of the house and drove here, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Chloe deserves better than this.

She wraps Chloe in a hug as soon as she steps inside and closes the door behind her. Chloe clings back, for a moment. Then they pull apart, Chloe’s hands still on Rachel’s hips. Rachel shivers, biting her lip, feeling Chloe’s eyes looking down at her.

Chloe leans down. Rachel leans back, turns her head, and Chloe’s lips just graze her cheek. “Rachel,” Chloe breathes, a hand coming up to cup her chin, move her head towards Chloe, and Rachel steps back instead, out of Chloe’s grip.

Chloe’s lip shakes, their breath heavy in the air between them. Chloe can’t seem to decide between yelling or crying, her eyes shining as Rachel tries to think. She can’t. Can’t do this. Can’t be this to Chloe. She has someone already, and Chloe deserves someone who’s always there for her, and Rachel can’t be that to anyone.

“You kissed me,” Chloe says at last as the music fades from the room.

“Chloe, that was — we were tripping, I’m not —”

Wrong. Very wrong. Chloe’s eyes narrow. “So that’s what I am to you, huh?” she asks, shoving Rachel back. “What the fuck do you even hang around me for, anyway? Got all your Vortex Club sluts, they not enough for you? Or d’you just hang around the dyke so you can have your fucking _experiments?_ So you can feel like a _rebel?”_

Shit. Shit. Rachel’s mind is moving too slowly. Chloe’s voice is raw fury, the way she talks about her fascist stepfather or her useless mom. “Chloe—” she tries, but Chloe won’t be stopped.

“You know what? I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need anyone.” Chloe wipes her eyes, hands clenched in fists. “Fuck you, Rachel.”

Chloe turns to go, wrenching the door open and pounding down the hall as Rachel tries to catch up. “Chloe, please, I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do. Fuck off.” Chloe’s shaking. “I’m so _sick_ of being everyone’s fucking toy.”

“Chloe, that’s not—I—”

“I said _shut up._ ” Chloe slams the door in Rachel’s face as she leaves the building, and Rachel has to jog to catch up. Chloe’s already in the parking lot, throwing open the door to her truck, and Rachel can’t think of anything to say besides the truth.

“Chloe, it wasn’t just—”

The engine roars to life and drowns her out, and Chloe cranks the stereo. She drives off into the night.

 

* * *

 

Rachel stumbles up the beach, heading for the RV with its lit windows as Justin shouts “Get me a dime!” She throws a thumbs-up at him over her shoulder, the light from the fire flickering dimmer as she approaches the vehicle.

She doesn’t need to knock. Not anymore. She just opens the door and hops up the stairs, nearly smashing her face into the wall with the final step but it’s okay, she’s cool, she’s fine.

Then she hears a snort. “Oh, hey. Look who it is, boy.”

Rachel turns her head to see Chloe sitting in the booth with Frank’s dog in her lap, absently scratching him behind the ears. Her eyes are bloodshot, her grin not reaching her eyes. “Sup, Rach,” Chloe says, raising her eyebrows at her.

“Chloe!” Rachel exclaims, a little too loudly.

“Mhm, that’s me, nice to see you’re not too drunk to remember,” Chloe replies.

“Wha-what are you doing here? Nobody’s seen you for days, I was worried _sick_ , your stepdad’s talking about putting a missing persons report out—”

“Neither of you actually give a shit,” Chloe interrupts, gently pushing Pompidou onto the floor. “I’m just crashing with Frank for a bit. Helping him out a little.”

“He didn’t tell me.”

“Why would he?”

Rachel has no answer for that. Not one that she wants Chloe to hear.

“Anyway. Whaddya want? Sure you came in here for a reason. I sell shit for Frank sometimes, if that’s what you’re after.”

Rachel slides into the booth, pushing Chloe further down. She looks like shit. Hair’s a clumpy mess, her clothes are filthy, face covered in bleeding makeup and exhaustion. She’s putting on her brave face. Rachel likes that about her.

Chloe stiffens, bracing herself against the wall. “The fuck, Rachel? Don’t throw up on me.”

Rachel shifts herself and climbs on Chloe’s lap, knees on either side of her, and she can feel Chloe giving in because this is what Chloe always wanted and maybe it’s what Rachel wanted too, maybe it’s always been there in the back of her mind.

She tastes amazing. She smells horrible. Rachel’s too drunk to care. Chloe’s too desperate, nails digging into Rachel’s hips.

“Come back home,” Rachel whispers into Chloe’s neck, after she pulls away. She lets her heavy body rest on Chloe’s.

Chloe’s clearly struggling. To recover, to think. But eventually she squirms beneath Rachel. “What, so you can just tell me you were drunk and that wasn’t real, either?” She pushes her off and Rachel hits the back of her head on the table as she slides down under it, groaning with pain.

“Shit! Fuck, sorry, I didn’t—”

The door to the RV bursts open and Rachel curls up into a ball beneath the table. She hears Frank’s voice.

“Yo, Chloe, you seen my scale? Forgot to grab it.”

“Oh, yeah, man, ‘s on your bed back there.”

“Cool. Anyone come by?”

“Not tonight.”

“Too bad. Could use a little extra cash. Got a sample of some new stuff from a guy in Portland, though. Wanna try it when I get back?”

“Sure, dude. Sounds fun.”

“Kickass. Be a good boy, Pompidou.”

As the door bangs shut behind Frank, Rachel lets go of her breath. Chloe peers under the table at her. “You get a concussion or something? Or just don’t wanna see Frank?”

Rachel shakes her head and gets on her hands and knees to crawl out from under the table. As she stands, wobbling on her heels, Chloe scoffs.

“Yeah. Fuckin’...whatever. Go away, Rachel, I’m not falling for this again.”

“Chloe...” Rachel sniffs. “I do care about you. A lot. Go back home, please.”

“Fuck you. Get outta here.”

Rachel wavers, and Chloe gets to her feet.

“I-I’m your friend, Chloe, I’m worried about you—”

“No, you’re not.” Chloe grabs her by the shoulder and pushes her towards the door. “Go away, I said.”

Rachel nearly falls flat on her face as she’s shoved out the RV. She hears it lock behind her.

She heads back to the party and tells them nobody was home.

 

* * *

 

Rachel sees the truck before Frank does. “Stop! Holy shit, Frank, stop!” she shouts, standing up in the passenger seat and nearly falling into the windshield as he slams the brakes. She runs out of the RV before Frank can get a “the fuck?” out, stumbling down into the ditch by the side of the road, red tail-lights flashing over her face. Chloe’s head rests against the airbag, headlights bouncing off dirt and back into the cab to show the blood running down her cheek.

Rachel wrenches the door open and reaches in, touching Chloe’s face. _Please move, please breathe,_ she begs, and Chloe does both, rolling her head to the side and mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Chloe? Chloe, are you okay?”

Chloe’s eyes struggle to open, red and blurry. As they focus on Rachel, Chloe groans.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she slurs, reaching down and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Of fuckin ‘course. Who else.” She slides out of the tilted truck, pushing Rachel out of the way as she takes one wobbly step, then a second, then hunches over, grasping her stomach. “Fuck. Ow.”

“Jesus, Chloe, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“M’fine.” Chloe makes a _hurk_ sound, covering her mouth. “Go ‘way.”

“Chloe—”

Rachel’s interrupted by another retch, and something dark splatters on the dirt. “Ugh. _Fuck._ ” Chloe wipes her mouth and sniffs.

“The fuck’s going on down there?” Frank asks, his silhouette obvious against the sky as he leans on his knees at the lip of the ditch.

“Chloe’s hurt!” Rachel calls.

“I am _not!_ ” Chloe shouts.

“Well, your truck is,” Frank points out.

“At least let us take you home, Chloe,” Rachel pleads. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. Can you even pay for towing?”

Chloe deflates a little bit, looking back at her car. “Wasn’t s’posed to be like this,” she mutters hatefully, staring at the crushed hood.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rachel asks, approaching her.

“Nothing. ‘Snot important. I’m fine.” Chloe struggles past her and crawls into her car, rummaging around in the passenger seat. She dredges up an empty handle of tequila. “Fuck. Musta spilled.”

“Jesus, Chloe, were you really —”

Chloe snorts. “You don’t care.”

Rachel stiffens. “Yes, I do, Chloe, I’ve told you that a hundred times—”

Chloe crawls out of the truck, taking her keys with her, and blows a drunken raspberry at her, leaning back against her car. After a moment, she says, “Figured I’d go out like Dad did.”

Rachel’s veins freeze.

“Didn’t work, though. Guess I can’t do anything right. Fuck it. Take me home or whatever.” Chloe slumps, running a hand through her hair, smearing the blood on her scalp. “I don’t care anymore.”

Rachel reaches out and takes her hand, slowly tugging her up the hill while Frank watches. He slaps Chloe on the back once they’re up. “You good, dude?”

Chloe laughs weakly. “Yeah, my truck is fucked up and my life’s shit, but sure. I’m good.”

With an arm over Chloe’s shoulder, Rachel manages to bring her into the RV and lay her down on the bed in the back. “Stay awake for me, all right?” she asks.

“I’m obviously not gonna die tonight, Rachel, quit being all fuckin’ dramatic. Just banged my head.” Chloe stretches across the bed.

“Do you...do you want to go back home? You could hang with me at Black—”

“Sure. Home. Let’s see what step-shit thinks of my _behavior_ now.” Chloe giggles to herself. “Bet he’ll be thrilled _._ ”

“Chloe, if it’s not safe for you—”

“I’m not going to your place.”

Rachel feels a lump in her throat. She whispers, “Okay,” and heads back to the front, tells Frank where to go.

When they stop, Chloe marches out the door like she’s on a mission without a word to either of them. Frank sinks back into his seat with a sigh.

“That chick’s dead by twenty-five,” he says.

Rachels turns to him, her eyes wide. “What?”

“Just sayin’. Seen it before. She’s going downhill fast.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Rachel’s fists clench.

“What? C’mon, babe, I thought you liked that I’m real,” Frank says, raising his eyebrows at her. “How long’s it been since she was in school? Like, two weeks? Not too different from me back in the day, only I got into an actual business.”

“You sell drugs, Frank. Don’t act like you’re so above her.”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” Frank asks as he puts the RV back in gear. “Doesn’t she hate you or something now, anyway? She didn’t tell me what went down, but, I mean, the dumb bitch pushed _you_ away and came crying to me—”

Rachel’s nails dig into her hands. “Shut up, Frank.”

“The fuck happened between you two? And why do you care what I say about her? Like, she’s cool and all, but Rachel, c’mon—”

Rachel can’t think. Can’t think of Chloe dying. Can’t think of what she’s done, the path she’s set Chloe on, or at least the path she’s never led her away from. And she can’t listen to Frank’s bullshit for another second or she’ll scream.

“Take me home, Frank,” she demands.

“Uh, okay.”

The drive is silent until they pull into the lot. Rachel stands up and unbuckles her seatbelt. As she starts to leave, Frank turns around in his seat. “Hey, Rachel — you shouldn’t worry about her.”

Rachel whirls, her earring whipping around her head. “Excuse me?”

“There’s nothin’ you can do for people like her. Seen it a couple times, like I said. You’ll just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Rachel wants to slap him. “She needs all the help she can get, you know how fucked-up her house is, how she doesn’t have any friends—”

“That’s her fault, isn’t it? Just ‘cuz she’s got a shitty home life doesn’t mean she can be shitty to everyone else. You literally pulled her out of a car wreck and all she says is basically _fuck you._ ”

“You have no idea—”

“She’s a waste, Rachel, and I don’t want her to hurt you.”

“Don’t talk about her that way!” Rachel shouts. Frank shrinks into his seat, Pompidou whining somewhere behind Rachel at the loud noise. But Rachel’s out of patience, too much fire inside of her.

“I’m just tryin’ to look out for you! People like that, they can’t be fuckin’ _saved._ ” Frank’s voice cracks as he undoes his seatbelt, getting up to face Rachel.

“Well then I guess you can’t be _saved_ , either,” Rachel says through grit teeth.

Frank actually looks wounded. Rachel should hate seeing him like that, but she’s too busy thinking about that truck in the ditch and the blood on Chloe’s head and this _hateful_ man telling her not to worry, like she’s not human, like she doesn’t care, like Chloe’s nothing. Chloe’s never been nothing.

She whirls on her heel and heads to the door. Pompidou stands in front of it, and without thinking, Rachel just yells “Go!” at him, sending him scurrying off to the back room. She practically slams the door open and jumps out of the RV, stalking across campus to her dorm.

Once she’s inside, she realizes her hands are still shaking. She shouldn’t be this angry. She never yells at anyone, especially not an animal. She tries to breathe deeply, calm down, but the image of Chloe slumped over limp in the cab refuses to leave. Refuses to stop stinging.

Shit. Did she just screw things up with Frank, over Chloe? Why? Why couldn’t she just stay calm? She’s always good at this, always good at keeping her life in order, keeping people on their good sides.

Until she kissed Chloe and everything shifted.

She sighs and sits down at her desk.

She needs to apologize to Frank.

And figure herself out.

 

* * *

 

Rachel steps off the bus and walks through Chloe’s neighborhood, shivering a little at the cold. Seeing the front of Chloe’s house always reminds Rachel of the stories she’s heard, of a long-dead father, an absent friend. That incomplete paint job, like a splatter of blue blood, still drying after years and years. Chloe’s truck sits on the driveway, its front caved in. Immobile.

She steels herself before she knocks on the door. She’s grateful that Joyce is the one answering, a tired smile on her face.

“Haven’t seen you around these parts for a while,” she says, stretching her arms out behind her back.

“Yeah, I know,” Rachel replies, running a finger through her earring. “I-I wanted to see how she’s doing. Since...you know.”

“As good as anyone can under the circumstances,” Joyce sighs, the corners of her mouth dropping. “It’s not like she _liked_ school, but I don’t think she ever really wanted to get kicked out, either.”

“Is she home?”

“Where else would she be? She needs you right now. She won’t admit it, but...”

“She hasn’t been returning my calls. Or picking up.”

Joyce glances up the stairs behind her. “Well, good luck. If she tries to hit you, I’ve got your back, all right?” She steps aside and lets Rachel in.

“I’ll count on it, Joyce.” Rachel gives her a smile, then heads upstairs.

She knocks lightly on Chloe’s door. Nothing. “Chloe?” she says, but still nothing. She turns the knob and eases the door open to see Chloe on her bed, just in a tank top and boxers, eyes closed and breath steady. Sometime since Rachel was last in here, new marks have been scribbled into the wall. I CAN’T SLEEP draws her eye.

Rachel closes the door behind her and slowly approaches the bed, sitting down on the edge. Chloe groans as the springs shift.

She sits up, blinking rapidly. “Oh. Hey, Rachel.”

“Hey, Chloe.”

There’s quiet between the two of them for a moment, Chloe rubbing the back of her neck.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks finally.

“I wanted to see you.”

“After what I pulled on you? Bullshit. Mom put you up to this, didn’t she?” Chloe looks around like she’s going to spot Joyce hiding behind a chair or something.

“No, Chloe, I really did. I just wanted...”

Rachel trails off. What does she even want, these days? To be a model, like she always says? To be in love? To be loved?

“I just wanted my friend back.”

Chloe falls back onto her bed. “Friend, huh?” she mutters.

Rachel winces, but she nods.

“I miss you.” She shrugs. “I miss hanging out with you. I miss when things weren’t such a fucking mess.”

“Me too,” Chloe admits.

“So is it cool if I just...hang here for a while? Like old times? Jump out the window when Sergeant Stickrectum gets home?”

Chloe chuckles. “Sure. Actually...” She sits up again, fingering the blue streak in her hair. “Was thinking about going all the way with this. Head fulla blue. Could use some help.”

Rachel smiles, feeling warm. “I can do that.”

In the bathroom, with Chloe naked in the tub and Rachel’s fingers in her hair, things start to feel almost okay. Almost normal, except for the way Rachel’s heart beats faster when she looks at Chloe’s body, except for the way her hands tingle as she rubs blue into Chloe’s scalp. Almost normal is good enough. Almost okay will have to do.

 

* * *

 

It took them a while to get back to the junkyard with Chloe’s truck inoperable, but determination and a deep urge to escape Blackwell and the Madsen household carry them through the bus ride and the long walk eventually.

Sitting here in their old hideout tastes sweet to Rachel. They should never leave this place, that’s what she’s thinking as she exhales smoke rings, passing them through one another in front of Chloe’s mesmerized face. They catch each others’ eyes and start laughing, Chloe throwing herself across the bench with giggles, clutching at her new blue hair and smiling like a maniac.

After that’s subsided, Rachel sinks down in her seat, watching the smoke hang in the air like so many rhetorical questions. Chloe speaks up first.

“So are you still gonna go to L.A., once you graduate? Blow this town and go be a star?”

To tell the truth, Rachel hasn’t thought about that for a long while. It’s been about Chloe and Frank and keeping them happy and away from each other. It’s been about finding peace in the moments between parties. It’s been about keeping Chloe tethered to this earth.

“Yeah,” is her response. “That’s the plan.”

“Got a ride?”

Rachel laughs unexpectedly, throwing herself into a coughing fit. “What?”

“Just saying. You wanna do a roadtrip, you need a car. Or...” Chloe’s voice drops. “Or is Frank gonna do it with you?”

Rachel pauses. Thinks. Once, maybe, that had been sort of her plan. He had a fair amount of cash. They could settle down in some little apartment until Rachel got a decent gig, and it’d all be fine. But Chloe doesn’t want to hear that, and Rachel’s not sure that’s what she wants anymore. “Frank? Pfft. Dude’s stuck here selling drugs to teenagers.”

“So take me.”

Rachel shoots her a sidelong look. “Chloe, not that I don’t want my best friend riding with me to fame and fortune, but your truck’s fucked.”  
“Don’t have to be. I can figure something out. If, you know...” She turns on her side. “If you want.”

Rachel decides.

“Yeah. You know what? I don’t even know what I’d do without you. You and me, we’ll fix that truck up and skip town. Fuck Arcadia Bay,” Rachel announces, holding her pipe in the air like some kind of twisted toast. Chloe gets up off the bench and scribbles something on the wall, grinning wildly.

**L.A., BITCH!**

 

* * *

 

“Oh, man, and get this,” Frank says, laughing out big puffs of smoke as he lays on his bed beside Rachel. “Fuckin’ Chloe rolled up to me today asking for a loan.” He rubs the white under his nose and sniffs. “Three thousand fucking dollars.”

Rachel frowns. “What’s funny about that?”

“Dude, are you kidding me? I’m not giving that kid shit. She’s not gonna pay me back in a hundred years.” Frank passes the pipe over to Rachel, who sets it down, still smoking, on the nightstand. She sits up, crossing her legs and putting her elbows on them.

“What’s up, Rachel?” Frank asks.

“I think you should give her the money,” Rachel says quietly.

“What? Are you fucking with me?” Frank shoots up, glaring at her. “Rach, you know that chick’s toast. She’s got no way to get any cash. All she’s gonna do is fix up that shitty truck of hers so she can drive it into a ditch again.”

“She’s so trapped without her car, she’s suffocating in—”

“I fucking knew it!” Frank practically jumps off the bed, shaking with rage, wiping his nose instinctively to clear the powder. Rachel backs up against the wall.

“What do you—”

“You’re still hanging around her! After everything she did to you, you still — for fuck’s sake, Rachel!” Frank fumes. “All she’s doing is dragging you the fuck down into her pit.”

“It’s not like that!” Rachel insists. “She’s my friend!”

“She’s a fucking parasite. What the fuck do you get out of it, huh? What’s she ever done for you?”

Rachel can’t tell him the reasons. The way being near Chloe makes her feel calm and at peace no matter if they’re just hanging out in her room or vandalizing school property. The way she tingles when they touch. The way she still wants to kiss Chloe, all the time, god dammit. Chloe’s beautiful laugh, her smile, the way she looks at Rachel sometimes, her face glowing. She swallows.

Frank blows air out of his nostrils. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”

“What?!” The word escapes Rachel. “No, Frank, I—”

“She told me you kissed her. That true?”

Rachel’s mouth goes dry. “It—it was just—”

“You did! Fuck, Rachel, I thought...” Frank’s fists clench at his sides as he paces the small width of the RV, looking anywhere but at Rachel. “Am I just your fuckin’ free pot repository or what?”

“Frank.” Rachel breathes shallowly as she stands up. “It was just an experiment. I was on acid. I didn’t —“

“Fuck you! You think you can fuck around with other people right under my nose and I’m not gonna get pissed?” Frank grabs her by the collar and shoves their faces together. Pompidou starts barking outside. “Not just for some fuckin’ pretty-boy at school, no, you have to fuck around with that _waste_.” He raises his fist.

Rachel shakes, waiting for the hit, the way Chloe does when she and David are arguing. But it doesn’t come, Frank just shoving her back unceremoniously. There’s tears in his eyes, but somehow Rachel doesn’t feel anything but fear.

“We haven’t done anything, Frank,” Rachel whispers, hugging herself. “Please believe that. We haven’t.”

Frank sniffs. “Sure. Whatever. Bitch.”

He stands stock-still as Rachel slides past him, hurrying out the door. She’s not sure if she’s shaking with terror or rage.

 

* * *

 

Nathan shoves her up against the wall, eyes gleaming as his hand runs up her shirt. The strobe lights over them turn his face into a deathmask, predatory, hungry. The music pounds in Rachel’s ears.

This is fine. This is all according to plan. Even — no, especially the fact that Rachel’s so drunk that it’s hard to really make out the world aside from Nathan’s leer. She needs money. Frank might have apologized after her letter, might’ve lended Chloe the money to repair their relationship, but he’s nearly out. Nathan’s not.

Nathan always looks at her like this. Like she’s a prize to be won. It’s been easy to twirl him around her finger. Give the right signals and any man will think you’re his puppet.

But she can’t do this. She knows that as soon as his lips touch her neck. She pushes him away, sputtering sorries and covering her mouth, making fake retching noises, and runs to the bathroom of the gym.

She heads into the stall, pulling out her phone and sitting on the toilet. She stares, waiting for enough time to pass that Nathan won’t be looking for her by the time she comes out. New text message.

 

**Chloe:**

_hey_

_i know youre probably somewhere fun but im hanging outside your room_

_just had to get away_

_so dont be surprised if you see my ass passed out in the hall_

 

Rachel sniffs, a watery smile coming to her face. She sends an _im coming home right now ^__^_ and receives a near-instantaneous _NO EMOJI_ in return. God bless Chloe Price.

She sneaks out of the bathroom and through the gymnasium like a wobbly drunken ninja, bursting out into the cold February air and practically running for the dorms. Thank God. She can just go home and chill with Chloe in her nice peaceful room. Light some incense and play something soft and dreamy on the stereo. Even if the things that drive Chloe here are awful, at least Chloe comes to _her_ again, not running to Frank and not chasing the grave.

Chloe’s sitting against the wall by Rachel’s door, and Rachel wastes no time pulling her to her feet and giving her a big hug. “You all right?” she asks, running a hand down Chloe’s jawline. No bruises today.

“Yeah. Just...” She kicks the ground idly, looking down. “Wanted to see you, I guess. Sick of hanging at home.”

“I wanted to see you too,” Rachel whispers, and maybe that was too bold and maybe she shouldn’t like pressing herself up against Chloe like this but it’s a thousand times better than Nathan. Or Frank, these days. She wonders just when she fell out of love.

But it doesn’t matter. She unlocks her room, throwing her keys onto her desk and digging into her pockets for a lighter. She lights the incense stick on her windowsill as Chloe stretches out.

“You’re a little woozy there, hippie,” Chloe teases as Rachel turns to her computer and nearly trips over the chair.

“Shhshshshsh.” Rachel finds the playlist they listened to when they were first on acid, letting it stream over the room. She grabs Chloe’s arm as she heads to her bed, throwing her down first. Chloe bounces, laughing, and Rachel stares at her, lying there all vulnerable and pretty and full of life.

Her head’s spinning. But she knows what she wants. What she’s wanted for a while. Why shouldn’t she? Frank won’t know and she hardly cares about Frank anyway and _look at her._ She’s smiling, her eyes half-lidded, like this is exactly what she wanted.

Rachel climbs onto the bed and straddles Chloe, and she hears Chloe’s breath hitch. “Rachel—”

Rachel kisses the air out of her. She lifts Chloe’s torso and puts her against the wall, wrapping her arms around her waist. Chloe whimpers, squirming beneath her but reciprocating because she always wanted to. Rachel knows that. Her hands trail up Rachel’s sides, hesitant, afraid.

Rachel pulls back, just for a moment. “Rachel,” Chloe breathes. “Are you — do you —” She looks ready to cry. “I thought we weren’t doing this. Not anymore. I can’t—”

“I want to,” Rachel says forcefully, leaning into Chloe again. “I want to,” she whispers against Chloe’s mouth.

Chloe surrenders herself to Rachel. She can see it happen, when her muscles relax, when she cranes her neck up to give Rachel’s lips and teeth better access. Rachel’s fingers dance on the slip of skin between Chloe’s band shirt and jeans, sending spasms through Chloe. She pulls Chloe’s top off and meets no resistance at all. The rest of her clothes follow just as easily.

It’s different, so different, than anything Rachel’s done before. But in a way, it feels familiar. It feels right and it feels simple and easy to touch Chloe like this. Like she should’ve done it years ago.

Rachel watches her face, most of all. The way she grits her teeth and hisses while Rachel takes control. The way Chloe’s eyes squeeze shut. When she finally cries out and arches her back, Rachel rolls off, lying on her side, running her fingers up and down Chloe’s chest. Chloe raises a hand to her forehead, panting, pale skin flushed pink and coated with a sheen of sweat.

“Cute,” Rachel murmurs, planting a kiss on Chloe’s cheek.

Chloe swallows and tries to get her breath back, but Rachel’s too warm to stop, to explain, to talk. She needs more. She needs Chloe.

She whispers Chloe’s name, takes hold of Chloe’s hand and presses it to her chest.

And Chloe obeys.

 

* * *

 

When Rachel awakens in the morning, head throbbing, she sees Chloe sitting on the edge of her bed, head hung, hands dangling between her legs.

“Mmmchlo?” Rachel murmurs, shifting and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Why the fuck did I do that,” Chloe spits. “Why’d I let you do that, I’m such an _idiot,_ you were drunk, it didn’t matter, it never fucking _matters—_ ”

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Rachel stammers, pulling herself down the bed with her feet and positioning herself next to Chloe. “Wait. Chloe. It mattered.”

Chloe chokes, hiding her face in her hands. “B-but you, you don’t, you never did, I knew that, I always knew that, you—”

“Chloe, I love you.” Saying it aloud feels so strange. She’s never even allowed herself to think those words, not about Chloe, but here she is saying them, because it’s true. She can’t stand seeing Chloe like this. She can’t stand being the one to cause it.

Chloe falls into Rachel’s arms when she offers them. She stays there until she can breathe again.

 

* * *

 

Rachel tried to write a letter to explain. Chloe is the one she loves, the one she wants to run off to L.A. with. It didn’t come out right. She crumpled it up and threw it away in the junkyard.

But she has to do this. It’s not a betrayal. It’s just a stepping-stone.

She still feels disgusting. Like he left slime on her where he touched her.

She can’t tell Chloe everything. That’s obvious. But tonight she has to say something.

So now, as Chloe drives her to the Vortex Club party, Rachel puts a hand on her arm. “Hey, Chloe.”

“What’s up?” Chloe says around the cigarette in her mouth. “I’m picking you back up at one, right?”

“Yeah, but...” Rachel trails off as they park in front of the club. She swallows. “You know our plan?”

“You mean California?” Chloe shifts in her seat to look at Rachel.

“Yeah. I just...I met someone.”

Chloe’s fists clench.

“No, not like that!” Rachel lies, putting her hands out in front of her. “He’s just...someone who can help me. Like, to get me modeling contracts, and stuff.” She can hear the digital click of the camera in her mind.

“...oh.” Chloe taps the steering wheel, looking down.

“I’m just — he changed my life. We can really do this, Chloe.” Rachel reaches out and takes Chloe’s hand, interlacing their fingers. “You and me. In a couple of months, we’ll be out of this shithole, together, no one else. This guy’s just a foot in the door, okay?”

“All right.” Chloe looks away. “If you say so.”

“Come here.” Rachel climbs onto Chloe’s lap, taking both her hands and squeezing tight as they kiss.

“I love you,” Rachel says again, leaning into Chloe and pushing her against the door.

“Love you too.”

Rachel gets off and scoots across to her door. As her fingers wrap around the handle, she looks to Chloe.

“See you at one?”

“‘Course. I’ll be here.”

Rachel gives her one last smile before she goes.

 

* * *

 

Six months later, a doe watches two girls dig in the junkyard dirt with their bare hands. Her hazel eyes stay steady until the girls reel back from the smell of what they’ve uncovered.

Chloe cries out, “Who does this?”

The doe has an answer, but she cannot give it. All she can do is watch, and meet the other girl’s eye when she looks up.

The doe’s startled by the loud noises. She turns and bounds off into the darkened woods, leaving the girls alone with what they’ve found.

 


End file.
